


Nightfall

by bidness



Series: The Devil From Edom [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Bottom Alec Lightwood, Devil Magnus Bane, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingering, Hopeful Ending, Human Alec Lightwood, Loneliness, Lots of kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Alec Lightwood, Pining, Sexual Tension, Summoning Ritual, Use of Allure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24210181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bidness/pseuds/bidness
Summary: Magnus’ eyes are a battling storm of color, conflicted as they make their way across Alec’s body, from the point of contact where his hand is burning against his chest, languorously up his neck and lips, until they lock eyes. It’s all Alec can do not to shift his hips up, not to let himself seek out the friction he desperately wants because it’s not warranted. Magnus has done nothing but touch the bare skin of his chest with a palm and look into his eyes and Alec’s already half-hard and ready.The motion catches Magnus’ gaze and he dips his head down to whisper against Alec’s ear. “I don’t ever entertain house calls, but perhaps tonight I’ll make an exception.”Companion fic toSome Nights, in which Magnus is summoned and Alec is more than a little desperate.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: The Devil From Edom [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739053
Comments: 48
Kudos: 304





	Nightfall

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't intending to write more of [Some Nights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24015610), but whoops. Almost 9k words later and here I am!
> 
> If you're just here for explicit smut, then you can skip past all the plot, otherwise I'd suggest you go read Some Nights first, so you're not totally lost!
> 
> There are also mentions of Jace, Simon, Clace, and Sizzy but it's just the blink of an eye.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

Alec Lightwood has always been of the belief that dreams are fickle and fleeting. They grasp at your wants, your needs, they pull the string of insecurities from your conscience and bare it out for you to relive. 

But in dreams Magnus comes. 

In dreams, Alec can let himself drift off into the twisting yearn of indulgence that overcomes him, can let himself _feel_ everything he’s never thought or expected himself to want. And Magnus is there to chant tender melodies into his ear with words of another realm that he knows nothing of, to offer promises of a future they know they can’t have but Alec cries out for anyways. 

“One day,” Magnus croons into his ear, low and rumbling and slithering through Alec’s body with hope. “One day I’ll have you.” 

“Yes,” Alec whispers, shaky in the space between them. He doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to, he doesn’t care, and when Magnus’ lips graze along the sensitive flesh of his neck it becomes a mantra that flows from him and into the night. 

Dreams don’t last forever, as much as Alec tries to cling to the vestiges of sleep that attempt to sneak away from him. Some nights he wakes unsatisfied and painfully hard, and when he grips his cock in the shower of the morning, he tries not to let the longing overcome him for another hand around him instead, for cool silver rings to chill the hotness of his body. When he cries out in orgasm, he catches his lip between his teeth, bites to the point of bruising, and tries not to call Magnus’ name. 

The days are easier. 

Once the shroud of lust and self-loathing have fallen from his shoulders, his mind feels clearer and his days feel more productive. He goes to work, he goes to school, he’ll visit Isabelle, Jace, and Max, and then he comes home to Chairman Meow. He keeps busy, stays focused because he won’t lose his days to the night, he won’t lose those to Magnus too. 

Izzy spends a lot of time in his apartment since Chairman Meow’s return, always poking her head through the door and inquiring about his days. He knows she’s worried, he sees the way her eyes linger on him when the sun goes down, he can hear the hesitance in her voice when he rushes her out the door. 

It’s endearing that she cares, but it’s not what he needs. He needs _more_ than Izzy could ever possibly give him. 

When work is slow, or classes are canceled Alec spends his time in the bookstore, scouring tomes for knowledge, for some sort of insight on Magnus. He knows it's absurd, and he comes off a little crazed when his quest produces anything useful and the beaming grin creases his eyes. Clary watches him with a giggle, offers her help because the bookstore is empty and she’s just as bored and stuck here as he is, but he always refuses. 

Edom comes up several times in his searches, older books that depict the layers of hell instead of the vague generalizations that it encompasses all. He doesn’t get much information, only snips of descriptions that sound like your typical underworld, or references to the word that lead to dead ends. But it’s after weeks of looking, weeks of googling and ordering books online that he finally finds something helpful. _Scorching temptation, brazen fluidity between wrong and very wrong, ruled by a singular powerful devil._

Alec licks his lips, dry with the unsteadiness of his breathing as he traces his fingers over the words. This is what he’s been looking for, this is his missing link in the connection between him and Magnus. 

* * *

_Ragnor_ _Fell_

Alec knocks twice, succinct and loud in the quiet of the hallway that echoes dignified and empty. He’s traveled further than he should have, the wring of his hands the only indication of his nervous energy as he waits for an answer, and it’s the name placard against the bland white walls that he takes in to pass the seconds. Ragnor Fell, professor in Literature and Demonology. Isabelle would call him crazy if she had an inkling of what he was doing. 

“So sorry for the wait, come in Mr. Lightworm,” calls the voice from the other side of the door as it falls open in a hasty movement. 

“Lightwood,” Alec corrects in a manner that suggests second-nature, stepping forward into the dusty room littered with well-worn books from years of overuse. 

“Ah, my apologies. Ragnor Fell,” the man says, extending a calloused thick hand that Alec shakes apprehensively. Ragnor Fell, with his wavy peppered hair and wrinkled frown lines is a perfect picture of his name and status. “What can I help you with?” 

“Tell me what you know about the devil,” Alec demands, straightforward. Considering he’s come to Ragnor for help, he should probably be nicer. But he’s traveled far, and he doesn’t have time squander his only opportunity for help on pleasantries that he’s sure is a waste of both of their time. There’s a seat beside Ragnor’s desk so he heads for it, wipes away at the dust he knows is probably starting to settle on the wood before he sits. 

Ragnor doesn’t seem to mind the brash treatment, sitting himself opposite of Alec and fiddling with the cover of a book that looks as if it’s about to fall apart. There’s a thought that this might be his future, the realization that he might seem the kooky professor surrounded by dust and frayed books as his only company. Searching for Magnus won’t help take him away from that path, but for now, he doesn’t care. 

“Lucifer?” 

“Magnus,” Alec clarifies, and tries not to feel satisfaction at the sudden perk of Ragnor’s brow. 

There are a few moments of silence, Ragnor’s lips quirk off to the side in an action that implies he’s thinking very hard, but when he speaks, it’s less than he expected. “Magnus Bane is an enigma.” 

_Magnus Bane_. 

“Bane?” 

Ragnor nods, squeaks his chair back and trails his fingers along the spines of the book stack behind him until he finds what he’s looking for. “There’s admittedly very little information on him. Very little information on all of them, I’m afraid. It’s not exactly an easy subject to study.” 

Alec’s mind snags on three words. “All of them?” 

“There’s more than one devil, they each preside over their own hell, granted not much is known about any of it, it’s not exactly like we can go and visit.” Ragnor chuckles, seemingly expects Alec to as well, but he doesn’t. 

“How do you get your information then?” 

There’s the quiet sifting through pages, before Ragnor sets the book down on the desk and extends it towards Alec. He takes it in with curious eyes, catching on the names that read two in a row. 

_Valentine Morgenstern – Lilith_

_Imasu_ _Morales – Magnus_

_Jonathan Morgenstern– Azazel_

_Maureen Brown - Lilith_

_Camille Belcourt – Magnus_

_Tim Dempsey – Lilith_

_Olivia Wilson - Lilith_

Alec swallows, reaches out to brush the pad of his finger across the names on the page as Ragnor begins to speak. “We get a lot of our information through witness accounts. These are the people who have been visited in some way by the devils, though some come forward more frequently than others. Magnus Bane is hardly mentioned, as you’ll see, he only seems to appear every hundred years or so. But—” 

When Ragnor doesn’t continue, Alec shifts his eyes up to him. The concern isn’t lost on him, he can see the way the crystal eyes shine with too-much information that so desperately seek to spill out, but he’s holding back and Alec will have none of that. He presses for more. 

“But...?” 

After a few drawn out moments, Ragnor finally meets his stare. “But everyone who’s ever met them has gone mad.” 

The whisper of Ragnor’s voice drifts over the silence of the room, heavy, prominent and resonating off the walls as Alec takes the moment to let sink in what he’s just been told. They’ve gone... mad? Crazy? Is this what Alec is fated for? All of his life, his studious efforts to get into a good school, his hours of hustle at work, all lead to a bizarre insanity over the devil Magnus Bane? 

He can feel something sinking in his stomach, the resounding fall of his mortality that shatters around inside of him, shards of glass he’ll never fully be able to piece back together because some of them are missing, locked away in the gates of Edom. 

“Have you met him, Mr. Lightwood?” 

The sound is soft, and Alec is so lost in his thoughts he almost doesn’t hear it. He can feel the way his head nods, stiff and rigid atop his shoulders, but it’s all he can manage. The ticking of a clock behind him is what he chooses to focus on, chooses the rhythmic metronome of something familiar to keep him here in this room, to keep his breakfast from spilling out onto the desk. 

Ragnor hums a gentle note, reassuring to anyone who isn’t Alec, but offers no more than that and the worn book that houses his only information on Magnus Bane. 

* * *

Following his visit with Ragnor, Alec does his best to try and forget about Magnus. 

Lazy days with Chairman Meow are now filled with forced friendships and even more forced family bonding time. Jace is over often with the addition of Clary in his apartment on days off from the bookstore. He doesn’t mind, it’s a distraction at best, and at worst it just makes the ache for Magnus in his life that much stronger. But he’s dealt with worse, and if it means keeping his sanity, he’ll gladly accept the raucous laughter from the living room that chases away his cat to the solace of the bedroom. 

* * *

The days seem to drag on less with the congenial presence of his friends, and nights are spent exhausted from the day's exertions and no longer from the stress of his mind spinning spiderwebs in his heart. It’s fine, at first. They have fun, and some nights liquor and far too much information are spilled, but at least they’re all happy together. However, soon ‘just happy’ transforms into... something deeper. 

The change happens gradual for a reason, a reason that Alec has no part of besides being the instigator and, so to speak, matchmaker of sorts. 

It’s ironic, if he thinks about it, but he doesn’t like to. 

He doesn’t want to think about the fact that everyone he’s worked to get close to, all of the important people in his life – except Simon – have paired up and gone their separate ways. Clary, who would sprawl herself across Alec’s couch and complain endlessly about their boss, or bounce ideas off of him for her next project, now spends evenings with Jace, curled up together doing god knows what in the middle of the night. His _sister_ of all people, tempted and snatched away by Clary’s friend Simon who deigned his presence on them at Clary’s insistence under the guise of a game night. 

Chairman Meow nudges at his hand that’s nursing a glass of wine, red and dark. Bleeding heart. 

With a sigh, he offers his cat a gentle pet, soothing strokes along the fur that he pays only half a mind to – until his hand touches the smooth leather of the collar that bring his mind back to alleyways and fire. 

The scent of the cold street pavement, the twisting noise of the leather crop as he gripped it in his hand, the sear of Magnus’ fingertips under his chin... It floods back in his mind without his consent, drowns him in the loneliness he’s fought so hard to keep down. He doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want this life of always being second to everyone else, to be left behind while everybody else flourishes in newfound joy. 

He wants someone to see him, someone to make him feel alive. 

He wants Magnus. 

It’s only a few minutes before he’s fumbling with the book, the woodsy scent of Ragnor’s office overwhelmingly stifling upon the first few seconds of opening it. His fingers make quick work, flipping pages in a rush to find Magnus’ name, to find any hint of him in this book, any way to contact him. There must be _something_. 

The Chairman is beside him, small body pressed against Alec’s thigh as a warm pressure, his purrs encouraging as though he wants this too. For a moment he wonders if he’s wrong for trying to seek out Magnus, if he should stop and put the book away, maybe toss it outside. 

“Chairman, am I doing the right thing?” 

The cat looks up at him, lazy with half-opened eyes as he mewls softly, butting his head against Alec’s hand. He’s never been one to look for signs where there are none, but it’s all the answer he needs. Hesitantly, he skims the pages, his eyes glossing over the thin transparency that hold dictations of interviews from witnesses that have come forth with their experiences with the devils. One catches his eye, a name he’s seen before, the last person that Magnus had contacted. 

_Camille Belcourt – 1878_

It’s been over a hundred years, Camille is far from living, and his stomach twists uncomfortably as he focuses on the passage of her transcribe, soaking up the words fervently. _Naïve, handsome, pentagram, blood, blade, Hell—_

The book snaps shut in an instant, Alec’s labored breaths coming out against the purrs of the Chairman that fill the room. Part of him feels the pang of jealousy at the knowledge that Magnus had smitten people into lunacy previous to himself, but also terror for the transpiring events that Camille had subjected herself in her attempts to reconnect with the devil. 

Alec can’t do that. He won’t do that. 

With shaky hands, he sets the book aside, picks up Chairman Meow who seems content to doze off against him and heads to his bedroom, mind racing faster with the possibilities he didn’t know existed until now. Possibilities he won’t dare go near. 

Not yet. 

* * *

There’s a howl in the wind when Alec finally stumbles into bed, high and chilling and causing him to stand and force his window shut. 

He’s got two hands and one knee on the bed before he sees the twinkle off in the corner of his room, the silver of Chairman Meow’s collar fallen on the floor. It’s tempting to leave it, to worry about how it even got off in the first place, but Alec feels the strong compulsion to pick it up. There’s no possible explanation he can think of for how it would have fallen there, the collar was placed by the devil himself, surely it’s meant to last. 

Spontaneously, Alec reaches for a marker on his way back to bed, fiddling with it in one hand as he’s studying the skull pendant. It’s goading him, it’s taunting him with a connection to Magnus he has no way of crossing, no way of even knowing where to start. 

_Blade_

With a tenuous movement, he lifts his hand to the pale moon, follows the lines of his palm and all the creases that form when he scrunches his fingers. 

_Blood_

The marker grows warmer in his grip, and with a gentle click he pops off the lid, lets it fall with a clack off the bed. This is stupid, he knows. Nothing will come out of this. But it's involuntary, the coercion of some unseen force guiding his hand, and he can’t stop himself from pressing the cold tip of the marker to the perspiring skin of his palm. 

_Pentagram_

He’s stared at the dark lines in the book long enough to remember the summoning circle for Edom, bold and dark against the fine pages under Camille’s interview. They’re ingrained in his mind, burned into his existence every curve and angle that make up what he hopes is the path towards Magnus. When he’s finished, he pulls his hand back to take in his work, to take in the glow of the red bright against his palm in the moonlight. 

_Hell_

The thump of his heart against his bones is incessant, beating steady and weighing him to the bed. _This is stupid_ , he repeats to himself. With a sigh, he tosses the marker across the room, not caring where it ends up or if it bleeds all over. It’s been a long day, and his sensitivities are too shot to think of much other than sleep, and Magnus. The cold metal of the pendant chills his palm, and he probably colors it red with the transfer of the marker and his sweat, but it only takes several short minutes before he’s dragged down into sleep. 

* * *

There’s a tickle against his face, the hairs falling against his forehead are shifted, and when the fingers touch his skin it burns. 

Alec doesn’t want to open his eyes, doesn’t want the phantom hands that comfort and pleasure him in his dreams to be a rude awakening that Magnus is not there. He’s content to lay in blissful ignorance and let himself enjoy whatever his mind has conjured for him tonight, whatever sinister delicacies dream Magnus will reward him with. 

The lean of his head into the hand that cups his cheek is instinctive, the act more tender and intimate than his brain usually offers him at night. But he doesn’t complain, and he doesn’t protest when he feels the gentle stroke of a thumb against his cheekbone, or the delicate caress of fingers as they begin their descent down his neck and to his collarbone. 

It’s almost painful the way he’s being touched, whispers of affection so carefully crafted by his imagination that they make his chest hurt. It’s both too much and not enough at the time, a torture he willingly inflicts upon himself in repetition every night. 

“Are you genuinely asleep or are you purposely trying to ignore me?” The whisper comes across his face, spicy and warm and lifting his senses from their slumber. 

Alec’s eyes fly open and he jolts awake, can’t help the reflexive jump as he pushes himself towards his headboard at the unexpected intrusion. 

But then it’s Magnus he sees, Magnus sprawled on his stomach across the dark blue sheets of his comforter, looking so, _so_ real. A tremulous hand reaches out, refusing to accept that Magnus is actually here, actually on _his bed,_ until it collides with a very firm, amused face. And as much as he’s wanted this since that night in the alley, Alec has no fucking clue what to do now. 

In his dreams Magnus was more of a voice in his head and a faint image, the sensations he felt entirely composed by his own imagination and desire. Never fully formed, never as fleshy and sharp as the cheek his hand currently rests against. 

What does he do? All the words he’s wanted to say are nowhere to be seen, have drifted through the cracks of his floorboards and left him sitting with his mouth wide open in awe. Magnus watches him, waits for at least a minute as he allows the gentle pat against his face, but Alec can see the moment his impatience grows, and he pulls his hand away slowly. 

“You’re here?” He whispers, because nothing else but disbelief fills his thoughts. 

Magnus exhales an obvious laugh through his nose and searches the sheets for something. “Of course I’m here,” he lifts up something shiny, plucked from the spot under his pillow, “you summoned me.” 

The words hit Alec like ice, and the rising temperature in the room seems to dissipate. 

“I … Summoned you?” 

Magnus frowns, furrows his brow in a motion that makes the flecks of red glitter around his eyes sparkle. “A pentagram to summon the devil from Edom seems an oddly specific thing to _randomly_ draw on your palm. Somehow I’m not buying your attempt at innocence.” 

Alec feels the explanation on his tongue, feels the way the saliva seems to coat his throat with words of his loneliness. “I guess I did,” he offers, not much of an answer, not close to the tempest of emotions winding around in his stomach. 

“This is very dangerous, you know,” Magnus says, matter-of-fact. His fingers are twirling a chain between them, pinched precariously against two perfectly manicured black nails. Alec’s almost envious of how calm he seems at all times; hates how much of a bumbling fool he is in comparison. But then again, he’s just a _Mundane_ , and this is literally _the devil_. 

“I have so many questions.” 

Magnus looks up at him and Alec feels his heart stop, feels the way it strains to pump blood, and he can’t help but notice the way Magnus’ eyes seem to swirl and pull him closer until he drowns in their impossible depths. But he doesn’t, because Magnus snaps his attention back to the chains that litter his neck, toys with them and lets them clink together in the quiet space of his bedroom. 

“Wh-What ... Was _that?”_ Alec gasps, reaching a hand to clutch at his chest where his heart is beating in double time. 

“It’s an allure,” Magnus responds as though it’s the most casual thing in the world. Maybe it is, in Edom. “Self-defense, in essence. Believe it or not, people still believe they are capable of besting a devil. And before you ask, no, I cannot control it.” 

The words come out strained, and Alec is genuinely surprised he’s caught it. He doesn’t dwell on it, however, because the despondent frown on Magnus’ face tugs at his heartstrings and before he knows it his fingers are under Magnus’ chin, tilting his head up. He’s vaguely aware of it now, the feel of something unnatural tugging at his conscience, peeling away intrinsically at every carefully placed defense against it as though they’re set up for that very reason. If he focuses on it, he can almost keep it at bay, can keep his head clear for the most part. The twisting gold and green behind the black slits of Magnus’ eyes are almost enticing enough to let himself drift, but he tries not to. 

He tries, and tries, and tries more... 

But then he notices just how close Magnus is, and has he leaned down or has Magnus leaned forward? It’s only a hint of a question because there's a breath ghosting across his lips, a blaze of cinnamon, and too appealing that he can’t help himself to it. He can’t help the way his eyes fall shut and his lips part and he reaches for Magnus. 

Only he doesn’t get to touch Magnus, because he’s being unexpectedly jostled onto his back, and Magnus is very noticeably keeping himself high above Alec with one hand against his sternum that has him pinned down. 

He’s almost content to stay like this, but Magnus is speaking and he has to actively listen to catch the words. “Why did you bring me here?” 

“I need you,” he strains, the words searching for any excuse to make themselves known. 

Magnus’ eyes are a battling storm of color, conflicted as they make their way across Alec’s body, from the point of contact where his hand is burning against his chest, languorously up his neck and lips, until they lock eyes. It’s all Alec can do not to shift his hips up, not to let himself seek out the friction he desperately wants because it’s not warranted. Magnus has done nothing but touch the bare skin of his chest with a palm and look into his eyes and Alec’s already half-hard and ready. 

The motion catches Magnus’ gaze and he dips his head down to whisper against Alec’s ear. “I don’t ever entertain house calls, but perhaps tonight I’ll make an exception.” 

Alec whimpers a strangled noise and doesn’t stop himself from arching his back, pushes his luck further with the tilt of his head towards Magnus’. He expects to be met with resistance, to be cut off once more from the victory of a kiss, but he’s rewarded with nothing but Magnus’ eager lips that stifle his noises and urge him back down against the fluff of his pillow. 

It’s too hot to be perfect, lips that are so scalding he has to pull back with a gasp to stop himself from catching fire. 

Magnus doesn’t seem intent on giving him a moment to cool off, shifting his attention to the long muscle of Alec’s neck that’s offered to him with licks and bites that thrum life into all of his senses. Alec’s lost to it all, blissed out in mere moments with just the feel of Magnus’ teeth and tongue, and he’s not sure what he expected or how he ever thought he would survive anything less than this. In his dreams Magnus’ touches were as light as the breeze from his window, barely a hint of their reality. But now, here in his bed, Magnus’ fingers that are smoothing against the hairs on his chest are so strong and _real_ and Alec can’t contrive anything but this. 

He wants it, he wants all of this and more, but his thoughts aren’t coherent and his mouth refuses to form words. So he moves the only way he can, his hands scrambling to grasp at Magnus, to grip and tug at him with frenzied fingers until he’s closer. And it works, because Magnus is moving, shifting into the space between Alec’s legs that spread voluntarily, lowering his body until they’re pressed together so closely it makes the stars behind Alec’s eyes spark white. 

He takes his bottom lip between his teeth and smothers the noises that long to cry out, tries not to tremble at the weight of Magnus above him, the feel of his pulse being tended to by skilled lips. Alec’s hands are unsure where to move, inexperienced in their sexual endeavors, but he tries not to overthink it when they form around the flexed muscle of Magnus’ bicep. It’s tense under his touch, and Alec wants to feel the skin, wants to feel beneath the barrier of clothing. 

It only takes a quick tug before he’s lifting Magnus’ loose red shirt, dragging it higher along the smooth skin that he presses his fingers to along the way. The lips pry from his neck in the struggle, and as soon as the shirt is removed and he’s greeted by Magnus’ stare, he feels suddenly struck. Magnus, sensual and so incredibly gorgeous is here, has his body pressed so heavily against Alec’s he’s not sure if that’s why he can’t breathe or if it’s the fact that his lungs have been filled with the tantalizing scent of Edom that he never wants to expel. 

Those eyes are watching him, taking in the sight of his sharp gasps when their hips seem to slot together, reveling in the slurred noises he offers when Magnus tilts his head down to kiss along his chest. He wants this so bad, and yet he can’t do anything but lay here and shake with desire, can’t do much aside from succumb to the ministrations of the devil in his bed. 

When Magnus grinds his hips roughly down against Alec’s, he barely has the foresight to cover his mouth with a fist. 

“No, I want to hear you. Don’t hide it,” Magnus growls against his ear, causing ripples through Alec’s body with every low note of his voice. Lips are on his again, hips are moving against him and with him and surrounding him in the heat of lust, and when Alec moans loudly into Magnus’ mouth it only seems to spur him on. 

He’s not going to last much longer, he can already feel the ache in his cock that warns how close he is, but he doesn’t want to stop. He doesn’t want to lose even a moment of the sinful way Magnus is grinding against him, pressing his tongue into his mouth and exploring every inch of him. When Magnus bites down on his bottom lip like Alec has done so many times in his morning showers, he doesn’t stop the name that rolls off his tongue, doesn’t stop the stutter of his hips as he finally comes against Magnus. 

Magnus. 

_Magnus._

Alec doesn’t realize he’s saying the name out loud in a sex-riddled incantation until the devil is chuckling into his neck, scattering sweet kisses to the bruised skin. He wants to say something, anything that isn’t Magnus but preferably something around the area of “Don’t go,” and “More, please.” As it stands, his mouth refuses to cooperate, chooses not to do anything other than stagger breaths into the dark of the night. 

With wobbly fingers, he reaches a hand up to Magnus’ neck, memorizing the skin and the layout of every muscle he meets, cupping his palm against the distinct jaw so he can pull Magnus back in for another kiss. It’s gentler than before, just a soft brush of the lips and Magnus nuzzling his nose against Alec’s, far more intimate than what they’ve just shared. Magnus stays there for a few long seconds, their breaths mingling in the short space between their lips and his fingers swiping along the cooling skin of his side, before he begins to pull away. 

Alec is quick to respond, his strength returning to him at the realization of Magnus leaving, and he clutches tightly to the exposed muscles of Magnus’ arms, pulling him back down. 

Magnus laughs, low and dark before he gives Alec a chaste kiss. “You’re a mess.” 

He’s not sure if Magnus means it literally or figuratively, but he knows both are true. When he goes to speak again, he can’t stop the pathetic way his voice cracks with emotion, “Don’t leave me, please.” 

The city outside is relatively silent, even with his window closed Alec can usually still hear the faraway call of sirens or people laughing from the bars down the street. But tonight, there’s nothing. Nothing to distract him from the erratic beating of his heart, or the wavering resolve of his breathing to not break down. Magnus isn’t looking at him anymore, his eyes tumultuous in their glare at his pillow as if it’s greatly offended him. The way his jaw moves as he bites down words is Alec’s only indication that he wants to say something, but nothing ever comes out. 

Instead, fingers are tracing along his face, and Magnus’ attention is back on him, fiery fingers leaving burns along his temples as they move to thread in his hair. Alec closes his eyes, basks in the soft touches that make it hard to breathe. If Magnus does leave, which he knows will have to happen eventually, then this will have been worth it all. This will be enough to last his lifetime, these memories that he’ll force alive every night in his head, it’s all he needs. 

There’s a sigh against his shoulder, warmer than it should be, and then a kiss from lips that trail down his chest, skim across the sensitive skin until he’s moving lower. Alec can’t stop the reflexive way his stomach moves when they skim across the muscles of his abdomen, and he’s quietly thankful for his discipline in maintaining a workout routine. Magnus lets out an appreciative breath, flicking his tongue out to run along them and taste the salty flesh. 

It’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to Alec, easily takes first place for the most erotic thing his eyes have ever had the pleasure of witnessing. But it doesn’t stay in first place for long, because Magnus’ fingers are curling around the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down Alec’s legs and hips until he’s lying there, naked and messy with his orgasm. 

He wants to feel embarrassed, knows that if it was anyone other than Magnus, he’d be reaching for the blanket to cover himself. But with Magnus he feels comfortable, he feels appreciated under the shifting golden eyes that are drinking in the sight of his pleasure. 

When Magnus leans forward and licks at the mess of come along Alec’s cock, he doesn’t hold back the loud whimper, doesn’t hold back anymore the sounds that accompany the swipe of Magnus’ tongue along his oversensitive cock. 

“M - Magnus,” he begins, but stops because he can’t think of anything other than Magnus name. 

But Magnus just hums, takes the tip of Alec’s cock into his mouth and sucks what’s left of his orgasm, massages it gently with the pressure of his tongue until it twitches in interest. He hasn’t had nearly enough time to recover, still feels the pounding of his heart as he shifts to sit up, but his body clearly doesn’t care. 

“If I have to be naked, so do you,” Alec says, hoping that it comes off bolder than he feels. Magnus regards him with a smirk that makes his stomach twist, but slides off the bed in a more graceful motion than Alec has ever done or seen himself. 

He expects Magnus to tug down the impossibly tight black pants, to let Alec watch the slow strip he’s sure to give, but instead he stands there with that sly look, waiting. “What’re you waiting for?” 

Oh, god. Magnus is waiting for him. 

With uncertainty, Alec scoots to the edge of the bed, sits and stares down at the daunting pants for a moment, before he gets to work. It’s not as difficult as he expects once he has the button undone, and the zipper slides down easily despite the strain of Magnus’ cock against it. And when Alec’s about to tug them down, he makes contact with the golden cat eyes above him that are watching him so intently he’s surprised he hasn’t burnt holes yet. 

He hardly remembers pulling them down, vaguely notes that Magnus isn’t wearing anything underneath them, because he is still staring down at him and Alec refuses to look away. There are hands in his hair, curling and holding him in place, and then a pressure against his lips that he parts them for. 

At some point Magnus has guided his cock into Alec’s mouth, but he can’t find it in him to be annoyed, can’t do anything but wrap his lips around it as he watches the reactions that flit across the face above him. Magnus is gorgeous, beautiful, _perfect_ , and Alec watches in awe how the hollow of his mouth and gentle suck twist pleasure on those features. He wants to do this forever, wants to watch Magnus, keep their gazes connected as he works his mouth around him, curls his hand around the base and grips those sculpted hips to bring him closer. 

Magnus has other ideas, however, because Alec finds himself thrown back on the bed for the second time tonight, blinking up in confusion as Magnus stalks across to him. 

They’re kissing, heated and passionate, their bodies sliding together in all the ways Alec’s dreamt about. He doesn’t want it to end, doesn’t want anything but _this_ for the rest of his life. Part of him wants to ask Magnus to take him when he goes, to bring him to Edom so he can live this fantasy out every day. He doesn’t get the chance, because Magnus’ hands that are roaming everywhere slide between their bodies, move lower down until they’re gripping and kneading his ass, and Alec’s mind is so filled with hazy need that he can only arch his back and grind up against any part of Magnus he can reach. 

Magnus lifts his head up, but he won’t meet Alec’s eyes, moving to graze his lips across the reddened skin of his cheeks instead. Alec tries to bring him back, wants to watch his reflection cast in a sea of gold, but Magnus refuses. There’s a laugh in his ear, low but the same tinkling of chimes he’s heard before, and the fingers on his ass are moving again, snapping quietly before they press against the sensitive skin of his rim. “You said you wanted more?” Magnus murmurs against his ear, tugging the lobe with his teeth. 

Alec nods his head vigorously, he can’t trust himself to say anything intelligible, and lets out a deep moan when he feels the wetness of Magnus’ magicked fingers pushing their way in. It stings, burns in a way that’s tinged with pain, but Magnus’ fingers are so hot against him, a soothing flame to calm the hurt. 

The motions stay gentle, they move in and out of him so slowly he begins to move with them just for _more._ The pant of Magnus’ breath against his neck is overheating him, mingling with the pacified grunts of satisfactions as he continues to slide his fingers inside of Alec, adding another, and then another with so much care that his body feels puddled with pleasure. 

“Magnus,” he hears himself gasping out, begging, “please.” 

Slowly, Magnus removes his fingers, pulls back and – _finally –_ fixes Alec with a stare so strong he shudders. “Are you sure?” 

Alec wants to yell at him, wants to beg Magnus to fuck him already, but there’s a spark of sincerity in those eyes that Alec has to really focus on through the fog of his mind to see. In his moment of clarity, he realizes this is why Magnus hasn’t been watching him, has been careful to avoid his gaze as long as possible. He wants Alec to want this, not to be coerced into it by his allure. 

Tenderly, he lifts a hand from its place against Magnus’ arm and laces it into the soft locks of his hair, taking in the streaks of red that accent it. Magnus is taking a moment of profound lust and turning it into something sweet and nuanced. Lifting his head off of the pillow, he presses a soft peck to Magnus’ frown. “I want this.” 

Magnus remains conflicted for longer than Alec hopes for, but he waits, squirms under the eyes that are raking over his body until Magnus’ lips are on him again, urgent and determined. He feels the blunt tip of Magnus’ cock pressing against him, feels Magnus’ hands positioning his legs up higher for better access, and he tries to remember to breathe. His head feels tingly and light, he feels like there’s too much stimulation going on that he can’t focus on any one thing, but when Magnus pushes inside of him, it’s all he can do not to come again because despite the pain the pleasure that courses through his blood is so intense he feels as if he’s about to faint. 

Maybe he does, because when he finally opens his eyes again Magnus has stopped moving and is watching him with furrowed brows. He sees Magnus’ mouth open and he knows what’s going to be said, but he doesn’t want to stop, they’ve just started and he wants to see Magnus tremble above him with his climax. So he shifts his hips, takes Magnus deeper and groans at the sting of being filled completely. 

Magnus drops his head to Alec’s chest, moans so low that Alec only feels the vibration of it against his skin, and he feels pride at the fact that he’s been able to bring Magnus down in this way, to unravel the charismatic devil to carnal sounds. Boldly, he moves his hips again and savors the sound of the grunt he’s rewarded with, relishes in the feel of Magnus’ cock buried inside of him. 

Fingers are gripping his hips in an instant, stilling his movements with a growl that spikes hot heat deep into his stomach. “Don’t. Move.” 

Alec swallows the moisture that gathers in his mouth at the guttural sound of Magnus’ voice, and he can still taste the hint of his cock in his mouth, a fact that makes his own bob in awareness. “Or what?” He responds, surprised with the unanticipated confidence and the fact that actual words escape his lips. 

Magnus lifts his head, pierces through Alec with a gaze so blinding that he forgets how his lungs function again, forgets what life _was_ before Magnus looked at him. 

The hands on him lighten up, and he feels Magnus bring his hips back and away from Alec as a prelude to the deep thrust he drives into him. It happens again, so suddenly that Alec doesn’t have time to comprehend anything other than the sparks that shoot up his nerves, that runs across every inch of his skin until he’s crying out Magnus’ name into the darkness of his bedroom. 

There’s so much noise now that fills his ears, he struggles to maintain any sort of cognizance that the walls of his apartment are thin and his neighbors can surely hear everything. Everything from the slap of their bodies as Magnus thrusts into him in the most debauched rhythm of sex he’s ever heard, to the combined moans that escape them and the hitch of his own breath when Magnus slides in the full length of his cock. It doesn’t bother him in the moment as much as he knows it will when he sees them tomorrow, but right now all he wants to think about is Magnus, whose teeth are scraping against the trembling flesh of his shoulder, seeking out any sort of distraction from the overwhelming ecstasy. 

Alec’s not sure how long it’s been, begins to measure time in the frantic motions of Magnus’s hips that are relentless, grinding and pounding into Alec with so much desperation it doesn’t take long until he’s letting out a loud, low moan into Alec’s shoulder with a bite that’s hard enough to leave a mark. That’s all it takes to send Alec with him, to cause his hips to buck up and spurt his own release against his chest. 

Pleasure crashes into him like a wave, and when it subsides it takes with it the ability for even the most basic of functions or speech, for several long moments. Magnus doesn’t seem to notice or mind, and he pulls away gently, carefully when Alec releases a hiss of pain that only lasts a second. 

There’s a moment where Alec’s afraid Magnus will disappear immediately, and he reaches out in an attempt to tug the devil closer, to bring him back to the space between his legs where he seems to fit so perfectly. “Stay,” he whispers. Magnus’ face holds the same conflicting expression as before, Alec can see the war going on inside of his head, but it ceases when Alec leans up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Please?” 

When Magnus looks at him, he still feels the tug of the allure on his inhibitions, feels his body longing to respond, but he shoves it down and finds it easier to focus with two orgasms knocked out of him. The smile that flickers to life on Magnus’ lips is hesitant but resigned, he knows he’s not going to win against Alec, knows that resisting is futile when they’re both covered in the residual stickiness of their coupling. 

There’s a flit of desire that creeps into the recesses of Alec’s mind at the fact that he’s covered and filled in his and Magnus’ come, that he’s laying here sated and rumpled. He feels Magnus settle beside him, snaps his fingers with a blue spark that causes Alec to let out a quiet moan at the tingles that prick along his skin, and as if it never existed, the mess is gone. 

Disappointment fills him quickly because all evidence of Magnus being here – being _real_ – is gone, but then it floats away because there are arms around him, pulling him closer, and _oh._

Magnus inhales, lets the air fill his lungs in a deep breath that feels as if it’s pulling all the energy out of Alec, and when he exhales it’s the sweetest scent he’s ever smelled. He wonders if it’s bad etiquette to cry, because his body and his mind are so overwrought from the roller coaster of being in Magnus’ presence that he doesn’t know how else to escape it. There’s so much, _so much_ he wants, but as he snuggles further into the warmth of Magnus’ body encompassing him, all he can do is succumb to the sleep that drags him down. 

* * *

Heavy purring and the tickle of long whiskers brings him back to consciousness – barely. 

Alec would swear to anyone willing to listen that Chairman Meow has a vendetta against him because of the one time he fed him beef flavored food instead of _tuna_ , and now proceeds to spend every morning waking him with the annoying wisps of his fur. It’s not logical, probably a little farfetched, but it’s a belief he’ll hold onto for as long as he lives. Chairman has a mind of his own, and Alec is merely a pawn in his undoubtedly long life. 

He breathes a sigh, deep and full-bodied, and scrunches his nose at the brush of a paw against his face before he blinks his bleary, dazed eyes open. 

The first thing he sees through the blur in his eyes is the Chairman’s fuzzy paw grasped between two tanned fingers as they prod at him in an attempt to rouse him from his sleep. It works, as effective as an adorable cat can be, but what truly startles the awareness into him is the golden eyes past Chairman that peer over at him. 

It hits him, suddenly, the sting in his lower half, the ache in his muscles from pure exertion, the haze that starts to unfurl from behind his eyes that begin to pull at the threads of his defenses. Magnus – _Magnus_. 

Magnus. 

Another swipe of the Chairman’s paw brings him back to the moment, and he has to lean back from how far forward he didn’t realize he’d moved. 

“He’s quite insatiable, isn’t he?” Magnus chimes into the Chairman’s head where he’s pressing gentle kisses. Alec has never wanted to be a cat’s forehead more than in this moment. 

There’s a throbbing in his temple, faint but there, a predecessor to the migraine he knows is on its way because his mind is trying so hard to process everything in front of him. Magnus is here, in his bed, kissing his cat – their cat? They had sex, and Alec tries to scrub the pink off of his cheeks at the memories, an act that catches Magnus’ attention. 

“You don’t seem too pleased that I’m still here,” Magnus whispers, almost quiet enough that he doesn’t hear it under the Chairman’s incessant purrs. 

“No,” Alec responds immediately, too quick to not come off as eager. “I just – I mean, um, I’m just a little … confused?” 

Magnus continues to sift his fingers through the Chairman’s fur, continues to keep his gaze on the cat between them, and for that Alec is thankful. He’s not sure he’d be able to think if Magnus looked at him with those feline eyes right now. 

There’s a long silence, and Alec’s unsure if he’s supposed to say something, to voice his concerns, or if Magnus just prefers the dramatic pause that goes a little too long. 

“My name is Alec,” he mumbles, driven to awkward confessions out of sheer discomfort in the quiet. 

Gold so bright and sparkling it catches something in Alec’s throat are on him, surprised and wide, followed by laughter. Magnus is … laughing at him? It takes longer than he’d like for Magnus to stop, to wipe away imaginary tears that do nothing to smudge the dark color around his eyes. 

“I’m the devil, Alexander,” he announces, the white of his teeth bright against the onset of sunrise through the slats in his blinds. “I think it would be worrisome if I didn’t know the name of my most faithful admirer and cat thief.” 

That’s fair, and completely valid. Although Chairman sort of forced himself on Alec, but arguing this with Magnus is the least of what he wants to do right now. 

There are still so many questions, but none of them feel right to voice out loud, and the words that want to come out refuse. Alec doesn’t want this to end, and the fear of his inquiring mind shattering this very real fantasy clutches at him, wrings out the ability to do anything but watch Magnus. The moon outside is nearly gone, the soft hues of orange and pink and blue break out over the horizon that’s cluttered with buildings. Alec’s only seen Magnus in the darkest night, and he wonders, idly, if Magnus is allowed to be out in the daytime. There are a great many things he wonders about devils, and Edom, and Magnus. 

Magnus is beautiful in the blossoming morning, with the ghost of color that splays across his warm skin, creates softer shadows that do nothing to dispel the cutting shapes of his body. He seems Earthly, more real, more _human,_ and Alec’s heart longs for this to be his reality, for this Magnus and this morning to be his always and forever. 

He hardly knows Magnus, nothing beyond Camille’s interview, beyond what he’s witnessed in the alleyway months ago. 

And last night. 

Last night, where Alec’s every whim and desire unfurled before him in the most saturated display of euphoria that he’s ever been a part of, one he would gladly do again and again every night. The images of Magnus above him, his fingers curling into the flesh of his thigh, the swarming heat he poured into him with every touch, the feel of himself being filled deeper with every thrust... 

Magnus’ gaze drifts up from the Chairman at the ragged breath Alec lets out, and it takes all of his self-control not to moan, not to shoo the cat away and climb on top of Magnus then and there. But Magnus is fixing him with that look, and Alec feels the shreds of his resolve waver, feels the way they billow out beneath him as he shifts closer to Magnus and disregards the ache in his body at the motion. 

A meow cuts in, Chairman Meow’s indignant call to the fact that he’s about to be smooshed. Magnus laughs, and Alec can feel the addiction to the sound forming in the twitch of his fingers, but he flops back into the bunch of his pillows and glares at the ceiling. 

“Don’t go,” he mumbles, face warm and red from the embarrassment of the situation and the pleading tone of his voice. It’s hard being around Magnus, it’s difficult to stay sane when he’s constantly being flip-flopped through his emotions. 

Magnus doesn’t say anything, just continues the gentle pets he’s designated for Chairman Meow. There’s a flickering flame of guilt at the thought that Magnus is without his companion when he leaves, but he tries not to fan it, tries to stifle it out because Magnus gave him the Chairman. 

The chirping of birds outside his window is the beginning signals of the city awakening below them, a signal Alec wishes he didn’t notice. They draw Chairman up and out of the bed, his curiosity for flying things overpowering his choice to be close to Magnus and Alec takes the opportunity. 

Fingers are tracing lazily along his back; the heat of Magnus’ chest is pressed against his cheek and he already feels exhausted despite the dawn’s presence. He doesn’t want this to end. 

All Alec has ever wanted was to be happy, for everyone in his life to be happy. For so long he had sacrificed that over his schooling and his job, he’s spent countless nights alone in his apartment with the only noise coming from his neighbors and the rustling of him flipping the pages of his books. Nobody was ever good enough to fill the void; nobody had really tried. 

But now Magnus is here, beautiful and intriguing and so out of reach that his ribs feel suffocating against the expand of his heart. The one person he wants, he can’t have as if that’s not the most fitting end to Alec’s love life. 

“Will I see you again?” 

The way Magnus’ chest fills with air and deflates cues Alec in to the forlorn sigh, and he feels the way Magnus traces the red lines on his hand that he knows are barely there now. “You should live your life, Alexander,” is all he offers, forbearing a legitimate answer. 

But Alec’s not convinced. There’s a fluttering in his stomach, a spark in his mind because that’s not a no. 

Magnus will leave eventually – soon – but there’s still a way for Alec to see him, a summoning circle that’s fading red on his palm, leading directly from his heart and straight to Magnus in Edom. He doesn’t say anything, won’t ruin the solemnity of the moment with words, but he does let the small smile show when Magnus threads their fingers together and pulls him into the kind of kiss that Alec has always believed he would only encounter in his dreams. 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I've turned this universe into a series, so if you're interested in more works with these two, go subscribe!
> 
> You can follow my tumblr [here](https://bidnezz.tumblr.com/) and say hi if you want, or if you just want to see a gratuitous amount of Alec Lightwood gifs!
> 
> Leave a kudos if you liked it, or a comment with your thoughts/favorite parts, both are greatly appreciated!


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